Spice Venue
81 Asylum St.
Hartford
June 13, 2024
The only Indian food that I’m familiar with is naan, and that’s because I’m obsessed with bread no matter what part of the world it originates in. So when I sat down at Spice Venue on Asylum Street (another location is at 1 Asylum St. in West Haven), I chose the garlic naan, because the only thing better than bread is garlic bread. That still left me with the choice of entree.
“We have several different flavors of curry to choose from,” the waitress said to me with a smile. But I wasn’t really in the mood for curry. I wanted rice. I ordered the Spice Venue Special Boneless Chicken, one of the most popular dishes.
After a brief wait, the waitress brought over what looked like a small crockpot bursting at the brim with rice, onions and lime. The dish consisted of aromatic basmati rice, marinated boneless chicken, mirchi ka salan (curried chili peppers) and the “chef’s special ingredients.” The food was piping hot. The aroma immediately blasted through my sinuses. I could tell I would need the fresh yogurt I was given to cool the food.
I took my first bite, shoveling a heaping amount of rice into my mouth. See, I thought only the chicken and the peppers were spicy, but the seasonings had been dispersed equally across the entree. They weren’t kidding about the aromatic part of the meal, as the smell and taste of the seasonings filled my lungs and danced across my tongue simultaneously.
It was like eating in stereo, where the smell was as strong a component of the meal as any other part.
Then came the spice. It began on the edges of my tongue, like tiny pinpricks. The spiciness swept across my tongue like wildfire, moving to consume my mouth like dried leaves and leaving the corners of my lips inflamed.
I downed glass after glass of water, which caught the attention of my waitress. She came over with the same smile as before, but was clearly amused at my suffering.
“Is there anything I can get you?” she asked.
“More water, please.”
“No problem,” she said. There was a brief pause. “Is it too spicy?”
“Yes,” I said sheepishly.
I was trying so hard not to be one of those people — you know, who go to an Indian restaurant then complain about how spicy the food is.
I didn’t have to say anything, though, as my runny nose and dry cough did all the talking. I didn’t have to add any of the spicy sauce which came with the yogurt.
When the waitress brought out the garlic naan, I dropped my fork and dug straight into the basket of soft, warm bread.
“Can I ask you a question?” the waitress said. I nodded as I stuffed my face with the garlicky, buttery goodness. “We usually eat naan with curry, but Americans often order it with rice. Why is that?”
I told her I didn’t know that naan is supposed to be eaten with curry. It made me wonder what other cultural meals I’d butchered over the last year of reviewing.
So I started asking questions.
As it turns out, my thinking about naan was completely wrong. I expected it to come out first, like an appetizer or the way bread is served in American restaurants. It’s actually meant to be served as a main course, with curry as the waitress said.
I asked about the brown sauce she’d brought out. She told me it was a blend of spices and seasonings, but didn’t reveal the house secrets of course.
If there’s one thing Spice Venue can never be accused of, it’s false advertising. The food I had brought the heat, but also an understanding of a food culture I knew little about before I entered its doors. I got to feast upon good food and knowledge, and that’s certainly worth a numb tongue.
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Spice Venue is open seven days a week.
Jamil returns to the theater for another one-woman show at Theaterworks.
